Deadly Paradise
by katriel1987
Summary: Beauty isn't always as innocent as it seems.


_Disclaimer: "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes and the author (me) is not getting paid for it. No copyright infringement is intended. (Really.)_

_Author's Note: This story is set in Season 7 before "Heroes" and has some mild spoilers for Seasons 6 and 7. Also, spoilers for "Solitudes", VERY minor spoiler for "Emancipation" (10 points to anyone who spots it!), and minor references to two of my fanfic stories — "Fighting Back" and "Sisters". (References are minor enough that I'd be surprised if anyone notices them.) This contains character death._

* * *

The planet is beautiful. That's one of the most ironic things. Jack can't be completely sure what the _most_ ironic thing is — there are a lot of possibilities.

Nights on P9A-331 are especially stunning. There are two moons, and when they're both up at the same time, every tree and rock and blade of grass glows an incandescent silver.

When both moons disappear beyond the horizon, the sky overhead sparkles brilliantly with billions of stars. Not even in the high mountains of Colorado are the stars so bright and clear.

Carter says the atmosphere of this planet is different from Earth's. That would probably explain why the sky is a subtly different color from that of the Tau'ri home world. In daylight, the sky is almost aqua blue; at night, it's a rich, dusky purple.

The landscape is lush, covered with vines and wildflowers and — you guessed it — trees. Climate is moderate — around 75 F in the day, around 55 F at night. There's a towering range of hills off to his left, and Jack can't help but think that he wouldn't mind exploring them. Not that he'll ever get the chance.

Wildlife is abundant, pollution nonexistent. There's no smog, no horns honking, no city lights to blot out the vivid starlight.

This planet is a paradise, completely untouched by human habitation.

Unfortunately, they now know why.

Carter is sitting next to O'Neill, her body hunched forward slightly. Evidently she can't sleep either. Stabbing pains in one's chest every time one takes a breath can be considerably insomnia-inducing.

"Carter," Jack says mildly, "remind me why we came to this planet?"

"Because of the naquadah in the soil, sir." Her words, like his, sound weak and whisper-soft. What seemed to start out as a common cold is morphing into something more sinister.

"And your doohickeys didn't pick this up because … ?" He tries hard not to sound accusing, because he knows it isn't her fault.

Carter coughs a couple times, trying hard not to, because each cough knifes her lungs unmercifully. "Our equipment is manufactured on Earth and is designed to pick up hazards that exist on Earth. We've always known that someday the MALP might fail to detect an alien virus or bacteria that it wasn't familiar with. It's a risk we've taken on every mission."

"Right," Jack wheezes. Then, after a moment, he adds, "Remind me to wear a Hazmat suit on every mission from now on, Carter."

She chuffs a weak, pathetic excuse for a laugh, then grimaces in pain. In the spirit of optimism, she adds, "We should be getting better soon, sir. Probably this is just an unfamiliar form of an ordinary old respiratory infection."

"You're probably right, Major." He keeps his voice carefully upbeat. He doesn't tell her about the thick, coppery liquid burning the back of his throat, because she deserves to have hope.

"O'Neill." Teal'c emerges from a tent, his dark face faintly visible in the flickering firelight. He moves carefully and slowly, like an old man with arthritis. Seeing the graceful Jaffa warrior reduced to this makes Sam want to cry. She doesn't.

"Hey, T. How you feeling?" Jack wheezes as cheerfully as possible, which, under the circumstances, is not very cheerfully at all.

"I have been better, O'Neill," Teal'c replies neutrally. With a very faint wince, he seats himself near his teammates. A fine sheen of sweat glistens on his dark skin, and Jack knows without asking that the Jaffa is suffering the same symptoms as he and Carter.

Fever. Chills. Aching joints. The mother of all migraines. Difficulty breathing.

Nothing like the Flu From Hell to liven up a boring, routine mission.

Maybe if Teal'c still had his symbiote, things would be different. There are a lot of 'ifs' now, none of them worth considering any more.

Drawn by the voices of his teammates and friends, Daniel joins the party, pressing his fingers against his temples in a futile attempt to calm the raging headache. Jack knows it won't work, because he's already tried it a number of times.

"Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty," Jack says in his best Annoying Colonel voice. "Daniel, you look as bad as I feel."

Daniel shoots him an irritated glance. "You're no beauty queen yourself, Jack."

"I figured that out a long time ago." Even though speaking causes pain, it feels good to exchange banter with his teammates. They're all sitting around the campfire now, as they've done so many times during the last seven years. With a little imagination, they can almost pretend there's nothing wrong.

Jack O'Neill knows what it feels like to die. God knows he's had enough experience. This time, there's no sarcophagus. There was a time when he would have been grateful for the blessed relief of staying dead. Things are different now, and while he really wouldn't mind living a few more years, maybe long enough to kick some more Goa'uld butt, he's more worried about the survival of his team members.

Teal'c has Ishta, and many more battles to fight against the false gods who once enslaved him. The rebel Jaffa need a strong leader to guide them, and Teal'c is legendary.

Carter has a new boyfriend and a brilliant career, and she's still a young woman. While she has created an admirable place for herself in the world, O'Neill knows she'd still like to get married someday, maybe have some kids. Careers are great, but they don't bring grandchildren to visit you when you're seventy-five and all alone.

Daniel … Daniel still comes off as a kid sometimes, even though he's in his thirties, with his wide blue eyes and his unchecked enthusiasm for life. He should get married too, raise a few archaeologists of his own, maybe retire to Egypt someday and spend his later years happily digging up pottery and translating inscriptions.

Jack would give anything to be able to save them. The only problem is, he doesn't have anything to give.

They don't talk much; it's too hard, and their strength is waning. The peaceful night air vibrates with the harsh sound of labored breathing, and absently Daniel wonders what the native wildlife thinks of this new and strange phenomenon.

Carter checked in with the SGC a few hours ago; they've kept in radio contact for nearly seven days now. General Hammond and Dr. Fraiser and all the SGC personnel are waiting anxiously to see what will happen. Hammond has been trying to contact the Tok'ra, with no success. They have no idea whether his symbiote will protect Jacob Carter from the illness SG-1 has contracted, but everyone knows he'll be willing to risk it to save his 'little girl'.

The silence is getting suffocating. Even the breeze has died out, leaving no sound but the breathing of SG-1. After a moment, Jack can't stand it any more. "Hey, Carter," he wheezes. "You remember that time when you drank that stuff that made you take off your — "

_"Sir!"_ Carter's formerly pale cheeks turn crimson. After seven years, he can't believe she still remembers it so clearly. From the expression on her face, the memory is very vivid.

Seeing his teammate's discomfort, Daniel can't help but come to her defense. "Jack, how about that nice Etarian woman who took a liking to you — "

"Oh, Lord have mercy," Jack croaks. "Daniel, please. You'll give me nightmares."

The edges of Jackson's mouth turn up in some semblance of a smile. "Jack, that's not very nice. She was a sweet lady."

"Daniel, there are some things that sweetness can't make up for. Besides, since when have I ever been nice?"

"You've got a point there, sir." Now Carter's almost smiling too. The feeling of near-normalcy is deceptive, almost making them forget their situation. Until Daniel begins to cough.

His face twists in desperate pain and the harsh sound of hacking shatters the peace. When the coughing finally stops, Daniel stares at his hand with an expression of horror. "Sam? Sam, look … " He holds up his hand to show her the dark red stain.

"Oh God." Her skin goes white, almost translucent. "Has anyone else been coughing up blood?"

Teal'c shakes his head and Jack doesn't say anything. That, of course, draws Carter's attention. She knows her CO. "Sir?" She wheezes pointedly.

He looks at the ground. "Well … yeah."

"Sir!" Carter's tone becomes accusing. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Déjà vu. _Because I was afraid you'd try to put a splint on it._ He'd thought there was no hope then, either.

Aloud he says, "What good would it do, Carter? It's not like we can do anything about it."

Dawn is breaking, the sky turning various shades of watercolor pastels, and in the dim light Sam's face freezes as she finally realizes what O'Neill has known for some time: that they're all going to die.

The strongest Earth antibiotics have had no effect, and the SGC isn't willing to risk sending more personnel through the gate. Because they don't know what's causing this illness, there's no way to be sure that even Hazmat suits would protect from it.

"Well, we can't just accept that we're going to die." Daniel's appearance belies his hopeful words. Perhaps because of his allergies, he seems to be in the worst shape. Every breath is a struggle, and sweat rolls off his face despite the fact that he's shivering in the cool morning air. None of the others say anything; they're too tired.

Several days ago, before the illness got so bad, SG-1 pulled a log up next to the campfire. Teal'c is sitting on the ground at one end, leaning his back against the log. Jack's sitting alone in the middle, hunched forward. Sam and Daniel are at the other end from Teal'c, huddled together for comfort and warmth. Sam's arm is around Daniel's shoulders, and despite her own weakness, she seems to be holding him up, willing him not to let go. Hanging on is getting progressively harder for the archaeologist.

As the light grows brighter, Jack absently looks at the landscape around him. There's a hill nearby — the first of that range he wishes he could explore. Its base is very close, and staring at its steep side, he can make out something that looks vaguely like a trail. Above it, something suddenly shines.

"Whoa!" Having detected possible signs of civilization, Jack scrambles for his binoculars. Of course, any natives they discover might well be Brain Eating Vampire Creatures of the Night, but in his current situation, he's willing to take the risk.

"What?" Carter asks listlessly, and he points at the glint on the hillside. Three sets of eyes follow his, and eventually each member of the team sees what he saw. When Teal'c wonders aloud why they didn't see it before, Sam says it's probably only visible at this precise time of morning.

Jack gives a low, breathless whistle at what he sees through the binoculars. "It's a … temple," he rasps. "Looks abandoned. And Goa'uld."

"Goa … uld?" Daniel gasps. "Let me see." He extends a shaking hand for the binoculars, and Jack can't help but smile sadly as he hands them over. Even on his deathbed, Dr. Daniel Jackson can't pass up the opportunity to look at a boring old temple.

"You're … right." Daniel sounds vaguely surprised, as if Jack being right is a mind-blowing concept. "It's … definitely … Goa'uld."

Jack forces himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He stands still for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Aware that his team members are looking at him strangely, he says quietly, "I'm going up there."

"But sir — "

"Jack … you're not in any shape to … "

"O'Neill, are you certain — "

He holds up a hand, silencing the protests. "Look, I'm going crazy just sitting around here waiting to die, okay? It's a long shot, but there might be something up there that can help us. And at least it gives me something to do." He looks straight at his Jaffa friend. "Take care of them, okay, Teal'c?"

Teal'c nods. They all hesitate for a moment, as if waiting for words to come; they all know they might never see O'Neill again. In his current weakened state, he could very well die before he ever reaches the temple.

"See ya later, campers," Jack says finally, giving a shaky little wave. And then he turns and walks unsteadily away, toward the base of the hill.

* * *

It's hours before he returns. Sitting outside on the log, staring at the ground and trying hard to breathe, Sam has given up on ever seeing her CO again when a shout suddenly pierces the air.

"Carter! _Carter!"_

Jack comes staggering toward her, his breath rasping horribly and every step sending a vicious knife of agony through his skull. "Carter," he gasps again when he comes close to her. "You won't believe — what? What is it?" He stops when he sees her face.

Sam tries to conceal the tears and fails miserably. "It's Daniel," she says simply. "He died half an hour ago. He was coughing up so much blood, and it was so hard for him to breathe — too hard — "

"Carter." He takes her by the shoulders, struggling for breath. "Carter, it's okay. We can save him. We're all going to live, do you understand? I found a sarcophagus."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. When they do, she turns for the tent.

"Teal'c! Teal'c!"

* * *

The hike up the hill is by far the hardest trek of Jack O'Neill's life. He thought walking out of a desert with a fractured skull was hard; it didn't compare to this. Not even his first journey to the Goa'uld temple compared to this.

He's coughing up blood every few minutes, a lot of blood. He's worse than Carter or Teal'c now; neither one of them has reached this stage. He feels like his lungs are coming apart, piece by piece, and being spat out onto the trail beneath his feet. This is what it feels like to die slowly, in agony.

Sam and Teal'c are carrying Daniel, forcing themselves to continue despite their own pain and weakness. The hope — of saving themselves, of saving their friend — is almost intoxicating, giving them the strength to put one foot in front of the other over and over and over again. The strain of bearing the extra weight is wearing them down quickly — O'Neill can see a thin trickle of blood from Carter's mouth, and Teal'c's body shudders with every breath. They're catching up.

Against all odds, they do make it to the temple. There are skeletons lying around — very, very old skeletons in Jaffa armor. There are two different symbols present — Teal'c recognizes them as those of Jah and Anuket, two Goa'ulds who fell from power long ago. A battle was fought on this hillside, thousands of years ago, leaving dozens of unburied dead in its wake.

In the next room over from the sarcophagus, there is the skeleton of a Goa'uld.

It's Jah, Teal'c says, then leans over to hack up blood next to the long-deceased false god.

"It seems … strange … that a Goa'uld … would die … with a … sarcophagus … so close," Sam chokes out.

None of them want to think about the possible ramifications of that statement. The sarcophagus will work. It _has_ to work.

"If all of Jah's … Jaffa … were killed … in the battle, there would be … no one … to place … him … in the sarcophagus," Teal'c replies. That has to be it. The sarcophagus has to work.

Just before they put Daniel in, Sam suddenly realizes that he'll be exposed to the illness again the second he emerges from the sarcophagus. So they dig out a Hazmat suit and, with much breathless groaning and a few weak curses, they dress Daniel's stiffening body in the suit. Once the sarcophagus heals him, he'll hopefully be protected from the pathogen that caused the illness in the first place.

With the last of their waning strength, Carter, O'Neill and Teal'c shove their dearly departed and strangely attired friend into the sarcophagus. Nothing happens. No lights, no humming noises; the doors don't even swing shut.

Lacking the strength even to stand, they slide to the ground and stare numbly at the object they once believed to be their salvation — now just another piece of flotsam, a useless relic of an ancient battle.

"Teal'c … Carter … it was … an honor," Jack whispers.

"Likewise … sir."

"Indeed, O'Neill."

"I only wish … I'd told … Daniel."

"I'm sure … he knew … "

O'Neill kicks weakly at the sarcophagus, his foot barely making a sound when it impacts the hard metal. Beside him, Sam, her last words spoken, slides bonelessly to the ground. Her will to live has been extinguished as rapidly as the hope they once had. She doesn't bother to breathe again; it's much easier to join Daniel.

Teal'c follows a few minutes later, his dark brown eyes staring sightlessly at O'Neill even after he's breathed his last. Jack wishes he had the strength to crawl over and close those staring eyes, but he doesn't have the strength to do anything. He's losing the strength even to breathe.

With his back against the sarcophagus, he has a panoramic view of P9A-331 — the lush green valley, the tiny silver ribbon of a river winding toward the sweeping ranges of hills he would have liked to explore.

And just before he lets go, Jack O'Neill realizes that this might just be the prettiest place he's ever seen.

* * *

A breeze blows through the open patio-like deck of an ancient Goa'uld palace, ruffling the blond hair of Major Samantha Carter and stirring the fabric of Colonel Jack O'Neill's black t-shirt. When the wind dies down, all is perfectly still.

And then, very softly, the sarcophagus begins to hum.

* * *

"Jack?"

The voice sounds worried. He opens his eyes and blinks against the harsh light; gradually it fades and he can make out the face of … Daniel Jackson?

That means he must be dead.

But since when do dead people wear Hazmat suits?

It isn't only Daniel; Jack can tell he himself is also looking through the plastic visor of a suit. He takes a deep breath, surprised at the complete lack of pain. He feels … like himself again.

And, he suddenly realizes, he's in a sarcophagus.

"What in the … ?" He sits up, accepting Daniel's offered hand. "This damn thing was broken!"

"Broken?" Daniel looks confused. "Evidently not, Jack, because when I came to, I felt fine. You, Sam and Teal'c were all … dead." He shudders slightly, his face displaying the horror he felt at seeing his teammates sprawled lifelessly on the floor. "I put Sam in first — "

"How long ago was this?"

"A little more than three hours." Daniel smiles happily at the now-standing Jack O'Neill. "Evidently the Hazmat suit idea worked, Jack, because I still feel fine. We had flu-like symptoms within an hour of arriving on this planet. If I was going to re-catch the illness, I think I already would have."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Jack tries not to grin like an idiot, even though he's happy beyond all reason. He completely gave up hope — he _died_ for cryin' out loud — only to be pulled back at the last second.

Teal'c's still sprawled on the floor, thoroughly dead; Daniel must have wrestled him into his Hazmat suit while waiting for Jack to be revived. Together they lift the big Jaffa and put him in the sarcophagus, then watch as the doors slide shut and the device begins to glow.

"Where's Carter?" O'Neill asks.

"She headed down to the 'gate to get a message to General Hammond. The SGC probably thinks we're dead by now." Daniel can't resist a slight grin at the thought of the General's surprise when he hears from a suddenly healthy SG-1.

Teal'c comes out of the sarcophagus some time later, looking rather bewildered, but he offers an actual smile when he realizes that the sarcophagus was not so broken after all. Together, the three of them leave the temple and head down the hill — toward Sam, toward the Stargate, toward home.

FIN

* * *

Author's Note: I swear, throughout almost this entire story I intended to have them all die. At first, they were going to die at their campsite one by one, completely without hope; then I decided to have them find a sarcophagus and make the painful trek to it, only to find that it's hopelessly damaged. Toward the end, I had a change of heart and decided that I couldn't be quite so cruel … so I brought them back. (grin) 


End file.
